The Cigar Box
by Rustie73
Summary: With David, Jack had a new selling partner, a best friend, a family, and something more. Oscar had nothing and desperately clung to the past. SLASH JackOscar JackDavid
1. The Secret

I do not own Newsies or any of the Newsies characters. To the best of my knowledge they are owned by Disney.

I am making no money from this story.

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With David, Jack had a new selling partner, a best friend, a family, and something more. Oscar had nothing and desperately clung to the past. SLASH Jack/David Jack/Oscar.

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A/N: This story was written for Lady of Tir Na Nog in honor of her birthday. I hope that I did justice to her character choices.

This story has not been beta'd. I hope that any rough patches in this story will not be too distracting.

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The Cigar Box

Chapter One

Life was good for Jack Kelly in the autumn of 1899. "It doesn't get any better than this," he mused as he walked with his friends on their way to work.

The newsboys had won the strike, Jack was a hero to almost every kid in New York, and he no longer had to worry about going hungry. Mayer and Esther Jacobs had welcomed him into their home and insisted that he join them every evening for supper.

The past few months had brought many changes to Jack's life, but the biggest change of all was David. He was Jack's selling partner, his best friend, and more. Now all of Jack's needs were being met.

After buying their papers, Jack and David quickly scanned the pages for a catchy headline. There was some discussion, and a little compromise, but eventually a headline was chosen. Jack lazily slung his arm over David's shoulder, and they set out for their usual selling spot.

The crisp autumn air brought a new vitality to the city. After an exceptionally hot summer, there were definitely more people out-and-about to enjoy the clear September weather.

The morning edition seemed to sell itself, and soon their arms were empty, and their pockets full. It was still too early for lunch and much too early to buy the afternoon edition. This left Jack and David almost two hours of time for themselves. They decided to take the long way back and enjoy one of the last beautiful days before the weather turned cold.

They played a half-hearted game of tag as neither boy actually wanted to keep away from the other. Then they sprawled out on the grass looking up at the late morning sky. The boys kept the proprieties and only allowed their fingers to touch through the smooth blades of grass. They were happy and content in just being together.

All too soon, David looked at watch and sighed, "We'd better get going if we want to eat before the next edition."

Jack groaned in protest, but managed to pull himself up and walk dutifully alongside his partner. They took a shortcut through the trees and soon came out on the other side of the park.

As he stepped off the curb, David stopped in his tracks and gaped at the sight before him. "Will you look at that," he grinned.

Trudging down the middle of the street was Oscar Delancey. He was wearing an uncomfortable looking white uniform and was picking up rubble with a shovel and a broom.

Oscar looked up and saw both of the boys watching him. Despite the cool autumn air, he felt his face become increasingly hot. He quickly turned his back and continued on with his work.

"That's what I call poetic justice," David laughed.

"C'mon," Jack grumbled as he yanked David's arm a bit harder than necessary.

"Hey!" David yelped pulling his arm back. "What the heck is the matter with you?"

"Nothin'," Jack replied without stopping.

Back at the restaurant Jack made a vain attempt at eating. When questioned about his appetite, he wrote it off to a slight case of dyspepsia.

The afternoon edition also sold out quickly, and then the boys headed back to the Jacob's apartment.

David was visibly disappointed when Jack decided not to have supper with his family. Mrs. Jacob's motherly instincts took over as she felt Jack's forehead and checked his throat for any signs of illness.

"I'm okay," Jack protested as he struggled to free himself from Mrs. Jacobs' nurturing death grip.

"Don't argue with me, Jack Kelly. I've been a mother for almost eighteen years, and I know that boys only come two ways; hungry or sick. . . . Maybe what you need is a good dose of castor oil."

The thought of swallowing a large spoonful of the foul tasting cure-all turned Jack's stomach and made him gag. It took every ounce of charm and guile he could muster to escape from the apartment unscathed.

When he arrived at the lodging house, Jack only nodded when he was greeted by Mr. Kloppman. He trudged up the stairs, hung his clothes on the bedpost, and then hoisted himself into his bunk without a word to anyone.

Though it was only about six in the evening, Jack quickly fell into a deep sleep. He became restless and kicked at the blanket as he dreamed of being in locked in a dark room with no door for an exit. A low and pitiful voice called his name as Jack searched for and escape.

Jack awoke breathless, and sweaty, and felt as though the walls were closing in on him. He wasn't sure of the time, but it was now dark, and all of the bunks were filled with sleeping newsboys.

Jack dressed quickly, slipped out of the window, and made his way down the fire escape to the alley below. The night air was cool and calm, and a gentle breeze dried the beads of perspiration that had formed on his brow.

Without thinking, Jack's feet carried him along Newspaper Row to the little park across from the World Building. He stood in front of the statue of Horace Greeley and ran his hand across the raised letters of the bronze plaque. "Go West Young Man," Jack read aloud. He snorted a laugh at the irony of the quotation. It seemed so long ago that he dreamed of traveling to Santa Fe. His life with David and the Jacobs Family had changed all of that. He now had everything he wanted and needed. Jack sighed as he turned and faced the tall iron gates of the distribution center.

Suddenly a figure in the dark caught his attention. It was a young man about his own age. Jack watched as the boy looked from side to side then climbed the iron gates and jumped into the courtyard.

Jack quickly crossed the street and sneaked to the gate. He watched as the boy skirted along the wall until he reached a basement window. When the boy stopped to look around at the now deserted loading dock the dim lamps in the courtyard cast a shadowy light on his face. It was Oscar Delancey. He carefully lifted the window and disappeared inside.

Jack took a quick look around to make sure that he was alone, and then climbed the fence and sneaked to the window.

He watched as Oscar lit the oil lamp that was hanging on the wall, and then he moved some packing crates that were stacked in the corner.

Oscar stood at the wall and began counting the bricks. Eleven down from the top and twenty from the corner. He eased four loose bricks from the wall then reached in and pulled out a bottle of whiskey. He took several large swallows and shuddered from the taste, and then reached back into the wall and drew out an old cigar box. Oscar took the bottle and the box over to the stack of crates and sat. He took another large swallow, then a deep breath, and then opened the small wooden box.

Jack wondered what was inside the box. It had to be something of value for Oscar to risk sneaking into the World Building. Maybe Oscar had stolen money from the distribution center and didn't have a chance to get it before he and his brother were fired and escorted from the building.

Curiosity got the better of Jack, and he quietly climbed through the window and into the basement.

"What have you got there, Oscar?" Jack smirked.

Oscar looked like he had been punched in the stomach. He snapped the cigar box closed and held it tight to his chest.

"What the hell are _you_ doing here?" Oscar hissed.

"I could ask you the same question," Jack replied. "I saw you sneakin' in here and I wanted to see what you were up to. So what's in the box, Oscar? Did you help yourself to some of Pulitzer's money before they kicked you outa here?"

"What I've got in this box is none of your damn business!" He snapped.

"It must be somethin' really important if you had to hide it here in the basement and come back to get it when nobody's around. . . . Well, nobody but me that is."

"Isn't it a little late for you to be out alone, Kelly? I didn't think that your little pal Davey ever let you out of his sight. What's the matter? Did you have a lover's quarrel or somethin'?"

Jack's cheeks turned red and he could feel the heat rise from his collar to the top of his head. "Dave is none of your business," he hissed. "You keep your mouth shut about him!"

"Gee, Kelly. Did I hit a nerve? It stinks having to keep secrets, doesn't it? And it stinks even more when someone knows your secrets and waves 'em in front of your face every chance they get. How'd you like it if I was to tell all of your buddies how close you _really_ are to Davey-boy?"

A combination of panic and anger swept through Jack's body as he closed the distance between them. "You keep your mouth shut, or I'll shut it for you. . . Permanently!"

Oscar stood his ground. Though he was at least six inches smaller than Jack, Oscar stared him in the eye. "Take your best shot, Kelly. Let's see how good you are without your little _newsie_ pals to run interference for ya."

They remained frozen for quite some time. Neither of them wanted to make the first move. Jack slowly leaned his head to the side causing a cracking sound to emanate from his vertebrate. The sound made Oscar cringe, but he didn't falter. Then finally, Jack made the first move. He reached out with his right hand and snatched the bottle from behind Oscar.

The whiskey burned Jack's throat as it traveled the path to his empty stomach. After a moment he regained his composure and smiled slyly at his enemy.

"So what are you doin' down here all by yourself, Oscar? You weren't expectin' company were ya?"

"I came down here to be alone, but I guess this is just one more thing I can add to the list of how Jack Kelly fucked up my life."

Jack quickly turned away from Oscar's cold stare. He wandered around the basement room as he sipped the whiskey. "Do you come down here a lot?" Jack asked without looking at Oscar.

"Only when I want to be by myself," Oscar replied taking the bottle back from Jack.

"You ain't always by yourself when you come down here are you, Oscar?"

"Why the sudden interest in my personal life, Kelly? It's not like we're friends or anything."

"I'm just makin' polite conversation," Jack replied sarcastically.

"Yeah? Like you give a damn!" Oscar replied.

There was no conversation for several minutes. Both Jack and Oscar glanced at each other occasionally, and then quickly looked away.

"Look, Kelly. You've had your fun. Now why don't you haul your ass back out that window and - - SHIT!" Oscar spat as he ran toward the window. "Son of a bitch! Nice work, Kelly."

"What the hell are you talkin' about? What did I do?"

"The delivery wagons from Brooklyn and Queens just came back. The only way outa here is blocked, and it'll stay that way until four in the morning."

"Damn-it, Oscar!"

"Hey! I didn't invite you in here, Kelly. I was just plannin' to stay long enough to have a drink or two. This is your fault, asshole."

"My fault? Keep the blame where it belongs, pal. I shoulda known that you'd fuck things up. You couldn't find your own ass without directions!"

"I guess that you're right, Jackie-boy," Oscar said as he lit a cigarette and took a long hard drag. Jack began to squirm as he watched the slow stream of smoke escape Oscar's lips. "I never did have your natural ability for finding asses," Oscar smirked.

Without saying a word, Jack swung his fist into Oscar's mouth. Oscar's head snapped back, and he stumbled a bit, but he kept his footing. He spit out the blood that was trickling from his lip and grinned.

"You feel better now, Jackie-boy?"

Jack went to the other side of the room and leaned against the wall. "It's gonna to be a long night," he mumbled as he slid to the floor.

End – Chapter one

Thank you for reading. Your reviews will be greatly appreciated.

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A/N: Happy Birthday Lady T.


	2. Cureosity Killd the Cat

I do not own Newsies or any of the Newsies characters. To the best of my knowledge they are owned by Disney.

I am making no money from this story.

SLASH Jack/David Jack/Oscar.

A/N: This story was written for Lady of Tir Na Nog in honor of her birthday. I hope that I did justice to her character choices.

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Chapter Two - Curiosity Killed the Cat

Jack wondered how long he'd been trapped in the basement of the printing office. It seemed like days, but it couldn't have been more than two hours. This was one of the few times he regretted not having a watch. After a long and unsatisfying yawn, he sneaked behind a stack of empty crates and peeked over the top to see what Oscar was up to.

He watched as Oscar went through the contents of the cigar box. Piled neatly at his side were a stack of dollar bills, a few silver dollars, and some loose change. Oscar took a piece of jewelry from the box and held it up to the light.

Jack climbed onto an empty barrel to get a better view. He craned his neck, and stretched out as far as he could, and then the crates and Jack tumbled to the floor.

Oscar quickly scooped up the treasures and shoved them back into the box. "Curiosity killed the cat, Cowboy, and you could be next," he hissed.

"I knew you were up to no-good!" Jack shouted self-righteously. "What've you been doin'? Robbin' people's houses or somethin'?"

"I never stole anything in my life!"

"I thought I knew you better than that, Oscar. You're nothin' but a liar and a chiseler!"

"You don't know shit! You're the one who's a liar and a chiseler. I wonder what Davey-boy would think if he knew about the _real_ Jack Kelly."

"I told you to keep your mouth shut about Dave. He knows me better than anybody. And_ he'd_ never do somethin' rotten like break into someone's house and steal their stuff. You're a no-good bum, Oscar! You're just like your old man!"

Jack never saw the punch coming. The smaller boy stood over him as though he were a giant. "I ain't nothing like my old man! And if you ever say that again so help me, Cowboy, I'll kill you!"

Jack's head was spinning as he pulled himself from the floor. He had to grab hold of the wall to keep his balance. He'd forgotten how hard Oscar could punch when provoked.

"Well, if you didn't steel that stuff then why are you hidin' it down here? I saw that earring, pal. Don't try to tell me it belongs to you."

"It does belong to me!" Oscar spat. "It was my ma's. Morris and the old man sold everything else she had. She must've hid that earring real good because I didn't come across it until two months after she was gone."

Jack looked down at the floor and began shuffling his feet. "I was real sorry to hear about your ma."

"Save it, Kelly. It's a little late for that now, don't you think?"

A slight pain gripped Jack's chest. He knew that Oscar was right. It was too late.

"Well, what about the money, Oscar? Don't tell me that belonged to your ma, and your saving it for sentimental reasons."

"This is my money, Kelly! I earned it, I saved it, and I hide it down here so Morris can't get his hands on it."

"Bullshit! You coulda hid that money and one tiny little earring at your place without Morris findin' out. There's somethin' else in that box that you ain't tellin' me about!"

Jack planted his feet firmly and pulled his fingers into tight fists. "You're either gonna tell me what's in that box, or I'm gonna make you tell me. It's your choice!"

Oscar leaned his face so close to Jack's that the hair on Jack's neck began to prickle.

"Do you wanna know what's in this box, Kelly? . . . Seriously. . . . Do you really want to know? . . . Well, it's me, you stupid bastard! I'm in this box!"

"What the hell are you talkin' about?" Jack grumbled as he slowly changed his stance to put some distance between Oscar and himself.

"Everything I own is in this box. I got my ma's picture and that one gold earring of hers. I've got my gramp's broken eyeglasses and a pile of useless crap that isn't worth shit, but it means everything to me. I keep it down here because Morris would sell off anything he could get a dime for, and then he'd kick the crap out me for wanting to keep this stuff."

"You mean that's a memory box?" Jack smirked. "Davey's sister Sarah's got one. She keeps junk in it like the ribbon she won in sewing class and a rotten old corsage that Snoddy gave her on her birthday."

"This ain't that kind of stuff, Cowboy!"

"Damn, Oscar," Jack laughed. "You're such a girl."

"You don't get it, do you Jack? This is all I have left to remind me of what it used to be like. Do you remember, Jack? . . . Do you remember them at all? They were like your family too. But that was before you found a new family. . . A better family with a sister, and a little brother, and a father that doesn't get drunk and beat the crap outa Davey-boy every chance he gets!"

"That ain't fair, Oscar. You know that I wasn't friends with you because of your family."

"Friends? That's what you call what we were? Friends?"

Jack didn't answer. He couldn't answer. He turned away from Oscar and went to the other side of the room and curled up in the corner. He tried to sleep but Oscar's words kept repeating in his mind.

He did remember.

End Chapter 2

Thanks for reading. Your reviews will be greatly appreciated.

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A/N: When I was copying chapter one for posting, I deleted the rest of the story. That's right folks. I deleted everything. I've spent the last four days (and counting) trying to recreate this story. . . . . Just thought I'd share that with you.


	3. Chief Running Wolf

I do not own Newsies or any of the Newsies characters. To the best of my knowledge they are owned by Disney.

I am making no money from this story.

SLASH Jack/David Jack/Oscar.

A/N: This story was written for Lady of Tir Na Nog in honor of her birthday. I hope that I did justice to her character choices.

This story has not been beta'd. I hope that any rough patches in this story will not be too distracting

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Chapter 3 – Chief Running Wolf

Jack remembered the first time Oscar brought him home. Jack was dirty, and thin, and looked like he hadn't had a meal in days. And he hadn't.

Mrs. Delancey was the most beautiful woman that he'd ever seen. She didn't seem to notice his dirty and worn out clothing. She welcomed him into her home without question.

Before long, Jack was a regular fixture in the Delancey's.

Each day, Jack would sell his papers while Oscar was at school. They would meet in the park every afternoon at three then they'd run, and laugh, and play _Kick the Can_ all the way back to Oscar's house. Mrs. Delancey was always there waiting with milk and cake for the boys. Then as Oscar did his homework, she would help Jack with his reading.

Every Sunday, Jack was invited to have supper with the family. He even had his own place at the table between Oscar and his mother.

After supper they would gather around the piano and sing. Mrs. Delancey always made sure to play _The Band Played On_ because she knew that it was Jack's favorite.

They were as close as two boys could be. Jack had never trusted anyone before, but soon he told Oscar about Francis Sullivan, his mother's death, and of his father's incarceration. Oscar never told anyone. Not even his mother.

One weekend every month, Mrs. Delancey would take Oscar and Jack to visit her father in the Bronx. They would leave on Friday afternoon when Oscar come home from school and then return on Sunday evening. Morris never went with them. He preferred to stay home and play cards and drink beer with his father and his father's friends.

Grandpa Connelly had his own house with a swing in the back yard. He'd been a soldier in the United States Cavalry. Each week he would tell the boys stories of cowboys and Indians, and the deserts and mountains of the great South West.

Every Saturday, Mrs. Delancey would pack the boys a lunch of butter and jelly sandwiches, and grandpa would give them his canteen from the army. Then they would set out to explore the woods at the end of the trail.

On one of their visits to Grandpa's house, when the boys were almost thirteen, they awoke on Saturday morning to find a large box sitting on the dining room table.

"I've got a surprise for you boys," Grandpa said as he took the lid off the box.

Inside were a cowboy hat, and a headband with Indian beads and a feather tied to the back.

That afternoon the boys headed out for the woods with their sandwiches, Grandpa's canteen, and wearing their new western headgear.

The cool autumn air smelled fresh and clean. The crisp fallen leaves crunched under their feet as they ran through the woods and reenacted tales of the old Wild West. Sometimes the cowboys would win, and sometimes the Indians would be victorious.

Jack remembered hiding behind a bolder they'd named Indian rock. He watched as Chief Running Wolf sneaked through the woods with his makeshift tomahawk. When he was close enough, Cowboy Kelly leaped from behind the rock and hollered "Charge!" as he waved his wooden sword in the air.

Soon the skirmish was over, and the Cowboy's had won the battle.

"Now I'm going to scalp you," Jack declared.

"You cant' scalp me," Oscar laughed. "You're the cowboy. Only the Indian can scalp somebody."

"Well, how about this?" Jack grinned. He quickly grabbed Oscar by the shoulders and kissed him. It was more of a firm peck on the lips but it was a kiss nonetheless.

At first Oscar didn't move. He liked the strange tingling sensation that was covering his body. Within seconds, Oscar noticed another feeling. It was a much stronger feeling from deep within his body. When he realized what was happening, he panicked. He pushed Jack away and began to run.

Jack's long legs and natural ability was no match for the smaller boy. Soon Jack overtook him and knocked him to the ground.

"Get offa me," Oscar shouted. "Leave me alone."

"Be quiet," Jack ordered. "Stop being such a girl."

"I'm not a girl, I'm a boy! And boys don't kiss boys!"

"Well, you liked it enough a minute ago," Jack smirked.

Oscar stared up at Jack. He knew that he should scream, or fight, or run, but he didn't. The expression on his friends face was hypnotizing.

Jack leaned down and kissed Oscar. This time it was sweet and gentle. This time Oscar didn't fight. This time it wasn't over in a few seconds. Jack loosened his grip and slid his hands into Oscar's. They entwined fingers as they kissed and breathed in the scent of autumn leaves, and tall grass, and butter and jelly sandwiches.

The boys were quiet and didn't look at each other as they headed back to Grandpa's house. Finally, Oscar broke the silence. "What now?" he asked. "What if someone finds out what we did?"

Jack sat down on a rock and kicked at the fallen leaves. "I know," Jack grinned at his own cleverness. "We'll do what Grandpa said that the Indians do. We'll become blood brothers. Give me your penknife."

Oscar was apprehensive, but did as he was told.

Jack put a slash in his thumb and then did the same to Oscar. They held their thumbs together and swore to keep their secret and to remain friends until death. The oath was then sealed with the official New York City spit-shake.

They continued their visits to Grandpa Connelly's and their Saturday's in the woods. Eventually games of _I'll Show You Mine if You Show Me Yours_ were replaced by primal urges and more masculine desires.

Then when the boys were almost sixteen everything changed. Jack saw it in the Obituary Section of the paper._ Joseph Connelly, Retired Sergeant of the United States Cavalry dies and age 62._

Jack left his papers lying on the sidewalk and ran to the Delancey's apartment building. The black crape wreath hanging from the door confirmed it.

Grandpa Connelly was gone.

End Chapter 3

Thank you for reading. Your reviews will be greatly appreciated.


	4. The Promise

I do not own Newsies or any of the Newsies characters. To the best of my knowledge they are owned by Disney.

I am making no money from this story.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

SLASH Jack/David Jack/Oscar.

A/N: This story was written for Lady of Tir Na Nog in honor of her birthday. I hope that I did justice to her character choices.

This story has not been beta'd. I hope that any rough patches in this story will not be too distracting.

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Chapter 4 – The Promise

Jack could hear shouting from the far end of the apartment as he knocked on the Delancey's door. He couldn't make out what they were saying, but it sounded as if Morris and Mr. Delancey were having another of their drunken arguments. Their heated discussions had become commonplace over the past two years.

Jack froze when he heard Oscar shouting. The small boy was no match for his big brother or his even bigger father. Until now, he had always stayed clear of their drunken brawls.

A flash of fear spread through Jack's body when he found the door was locked. The Delancey's never locked their door. Jack pounded frantically calling for Oscar. His breath caught in his chest as he remembered standing outside his parent's bedroom and hearing his mother's screams. Suddenly he was five years old again, and his eyes began to pool.

When he heard the click of the lock opening, Jack drew in a quick ragged breath and wiped his eyes with his sleeve.

Finally, Morris opened the door just enough for his body to fill the entrance. "What do you want, street rat?"

"I came to see Oscar and to pay my respects to your mother."

"Well, nobody in here wants to see you." Morris spat. His breath smelled like cigar smoke and stale liquor.

"Let me in, Morris or so help me I'll . . ."

"I can handle this," Oscar said, pushing past his brother.

"Remember what I said," Morris warned as the door closed between them.

"What was all that screamin' about, Oscar? Are you okay?"

"I'm fine, Jack, but we're kind of busy right now, so you're gonna have to go."

"Whadda you mean your kinda busy? What the hell is goin' on in there?"

"It's nothin', Jack. Everybody's upset about Grandpa, is all. It's just not a good time for you to visit."

"Since when am I a visitor? I wanna see your mother and tell her how sorry I am about Grandpa."

"She can't see you now, Jack. She's sleeping, but I'll tell her you were here."

"Don't try to tell me that your ma is sleepin' through this, cause I know she's not. There's no way anybody could sleep through that racket. Now get the hell outa my way and let me inside!"

"Jack, please don't argue with me. You'll only make things worse," Oscar whispered as he looked at the door over his shoulder. "I'll meet you in that park tomorrow morning at 6:00, but please, Jack. Please go now."

"Oscar, I - - ."

"_Please_, Jack."

Jack stood for a moment searching Oscar's face. He wanted to grab Oscar's hand and run from the building, but forced himself to turn and then rushed down the stairs. When he reached the sidewalk he fought the urge to stop and look up at the second story window. He didn't slow his pace until he reached the comforting sight of the lodging house.

The next morning, Jack was waiting in the park when Oscar arrived.

"What the hell is going on, Oscar? Why did you tell me to get lost last night? You're lucky that I didn't - - Jeese! What the hell happened to you?"

Oscar's lip was swollen and split, and his left eye was bruised and almost closed.

Oscar didn't answer. He was too busy looking over his shoulder and glancing around at the park. His hands were shaking so badly that he slipped them into his pockets to keep them still.

"C'mere," Jack said pulling Oscar into the woods. "What the hell happened?"

"They said I can't see you anymore, Jack. They said that they'll kill me if I do."

"Who said they'll kill you?" Jack asked, already knowing the answer.

"Pop and Morris. They said that if they caught me even talking to you that I'd be sorry, and they said they'd make Ma sorry too."

"Is you ma alright? They didn't hurt her none did they?"

"No. She's okay . . . . Well, I guess she's okay. The doctor came and gave her some tonic that's supposed to make her sleep, but she just stays in her room and cries. Pop says now that grandpa is gone things are gonna be different."

"Whadda you mean things are gonna be different? What things?"

"Pop says that Grandpa and Ma were makin' a sissy outa me. He said now that Grandpa is gone everything is gonna change."

"What - - "

"Pop used to smack Ma and us around when we were little. When Grandpa Connelly found out he beat Pop so bad that he couldn't go to work for three days. Grandpa said that if Pop ever hit us again that he was gonna kill him with his bare hands."

"Damn-it, Oscar. Why didn't you tell me about this before now?"

Oscar didn't answer. He was ashamed of his father and of having kept the beatings a secret. His eyes moved about nervously attempting to look anywhere but at Jack.

"It's okay," Jack said calmly as he squeezed Oscar's shoulder. "It's okay."

"That's why we went to Grandpa's every month. He wanted to make sure that we were okay, and give Ma a chance to get away from Pop every few of weeks. Morris never wanted to go. He was always mean, just like Pop."

"Jeese, Oscar. You shoulda known better than to get between the two of them. You coulda - -"

"Jack, you're not listening to me! They said that I can't see you anymore! They said that if they even caught me talking to you they'd kill me and then go after you! They know, Jack! They know about you and me!"

"That's crazy," Jack said as he began pacing in small circles. "There's no way they could find out. They never went to Grandpa's with us. That's the only time we were ever alone. How could they know anything?"

"I don't know, Jack, but they do. And Pop said that I can't go to school anymore either. Tomorrow me and Morris start working for my uncle at the World. That way Morris can keep an eye on both you and me at the same time. . . What am I gonna do, Jack?"

"You're gonna come with me right now. You can stay with me over at the lodging house, and I'll teach you how to sell newspapers. Morris doesn't even have to know. I'll buy the papes, and we can sell them together. It'll be great, Oscar. Your old man and Morris can't touch you there. And you'll like the guys. You're gonna fit in just fine."

"And what about Ma? What'll happen to her if I don't come home tonight?"

"We'll get her outa there tonight when Morris and your pop are getting drunk over at McGinty's."

"And then what? Are you gonna teach her to sell papers too? It's not like you can get _her_ a bed over at the lodging house."

"We'll take her to Grandpa's house. She'll be safe there."

"Pop already nailed a for sale sigh on the house. He's waited years to get his hands on that house and Grandpa's money, and now he's got it. It's no use, Jack. I can't see you anymore."

"Don't you ever say that! Jack shouted as he shook Oscar by the shoulders. "Don't you ever say that we ain't gonna be together!"

Oscar pulled away from Jack and sat on the ground under a tree. He wrapped his arms around his knees and pulled them tight to his chest. He buried his face as if to block out the rest of the world.

'It'll be alright, Oscar. I promise you it will," Jack reassured him. "You'll go to work at the World with Morris just like your old man wants. Then you and me are gonna pretend that we ain't friends anymore. We'll make 'em think that we hate each other. That way you and your ma will be safe until we can think of a way outa this."

Jack sat down and put his arm around Oscar's shoulders.

"Everything is gonna be okay," Jack said, trying to convince himself as mush as Oscar.

"I promise"

End Chapter 4

Thanks for reading. Your reviews will be greatly appreciated.


	5. The Plan

I do not own Newsies or any of the Newsies characters. To the best of my knowledge they are owned by Disney.

I am making no money from this story.

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SLASH. Jack/Oscar Jack/David

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A/N: This is a one shot that was written for Lady of Tir Na Nog in honor of her birthday. Through a comedy or errors it has turned into five chapters and counting. There will be two (maybe three) more chapters. With any luck, I will finish before her next birthday.

This story has not been beta'd. I hope that any rough patches will not be too distracting.

Please note that I have changed the rating of this story from T to M.

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Chapter 5 – The Plan

With a considerable amount of fear and apprehension, Oscar set out for his first day of work at the distribution center. Morris walked alongside reminding him what would happen if he didn't stay away from Jack Kelly.

As they approached the gate, Oscar's eyes searched the long line of newsboys until he saw Jack standing at the front. His eyes darted away before Morris could notice. Just knowing that Jack was there helped to relieve the ache in his stomach.

Most of the newsies were thin, and some looked as though they hadn't had a meal in days. They were dressed in little more than rags, but Oscar wanted to be one of them more than anything. He wanted to toss away his new dress shirt and his ridiculous looking bowler hat, and go to join Jack at the front of the line.

"Well, well. What have we here?" a short dark haired boy laughed. "The circus must be in town. It looks like an organ-grinder and his trained monkey have come to pay us a visit!"

"I don't know, Race," Jack smirked. He gave a quick glance at Oscar and then turned his attention to Morris. "I don't think that a monkey would be caught dead in an outfit like this," he said flicking at the lapels of Morris' vest.

"Street Rat!" Morris hissed shoving Jack out of his way.

Jack bumped against Oscar and gave him a quick wink. "Who do you think you're shovin'!" Jack shouted.

"You! Ya big ape!" Oscar replied shoving back as they had planned. Morris grinned as he watched the boys scuffle. Jack and Oscar rolled around on the ground throwing punches and shouting insults until the circulation bell rang. Finally, they were pulled apart by two of the larger boys.

Their plan had worked, and nobody was the wiser.

The months went by and everything went as Jack had planned. They'd throw a few punches and call each other names when they were sure that Morris was watching. They would laugh about it later when the met in some alley or up on an empty rooftop. Jack even bought Oscar a small feather to wear brim of his bowler hat. He said it would remind them both that they were still Cowboy Kelly and Chief Running Wolf. The important thing was that Mrs. Delancey was safe and they were together.

They continued their charade for more than a year, and no one, including Morris, suspected a thing.

Unfortunately, they still had not come up with a viable solution to their problem, and Jack was becoming impatient. His daily confrontations with the brothers had taken on a more serious tone. His taunting remarks to Oscar had gone from playful to venomous, and his punches were a little harder than was necessary. Soon their personal time became less frequent. Jack came up with excuse after excuse for why they couldn't meet. When they were together their tender moments and gentle kisses were replaced by rough handling and raw desires.

Oscar's life now revolved around working at the distribution center, taking care of his failing mother, and trying to keep Jack happy. None of which was an easy task, and together they were practically unbearable.

Late one evening they sneaked into the basement of the printing office. From the time they arrived, Jack did nothing but complain.

By now the knot in Oscar's stomach had become a permanent condition. Tonight, however, it seemed more uncomfortable than ever. Still, he swallowed Jack's insults, and he swallowed his pride in a desperate attempt to make things as they were before.

"I've got a surprise for you," Oscar said as he led Jack to an empty corner of the room. Jack rolled his eyes and set his jaw in an obvious look of annoyance. He watched impatiently as the other boy counted the bricks. "Eleven down from the top and twenty from the corner," Oscar whispered looking up with a hopeful smile. He eased several loose bricks from the wall then reached inside the opening and took out a bottle of whiskey. "I thought that we could both use a treat, so I bought this the other day and hid it down here when nobody was lookin'."

After about twenty minutes, and several healthy swallows from the bottle, both boys began to relax.

"You're not gonna believe what I found this morning," Oscar beamed. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a faded strip of red cloth. It was the Indian headband that Grandpa had given him. "I thought this was gone years ago."

Jack ran his fingers over the frayed cloth and the unraveling beads. "Chief Running Wolf," he whispered. "C'mrer Chief," he said pulling Oscar down to his side.

Oscar fit comfortably into the embrace and rested his head on Jack's chest. "It was all so easy then," he sighed.

"Yeah it was," Jack said as he rubbed his cheek against Oscar's hair.

Oscar felt good in his arms. Jack closed his eyes and could almost hear the wind rustling through the leaves in the woods near Grandpa's house. He remembered the feel the sun on his face as it shown through a canopy of green, and gold, and russet. Oscar's body felt warm and comfortable against his.

Jack reached for Oscar's face and tilted it to his own. His chest ached at the sight of the clear dark eyes. He pressed their lips together and an excitement flowed through his body that he hadn't felt in a very long time.

Jack was less than gentle as he tore at the shirt buttons and pulled Oscar's undershirt over his head. The body that he'd touched so many times before felt new and exciting, and he wanted to experience every inch of it. His mouth made it's way down Oscar's neck pausing only long enough to draw a low and guttural grown from deep within the smaller boy's throat. Jack's mouth traveled the path of every muscle, and line it encountered.

Oscar shivered from the cold air in the basement, but Jack's hands and mouth warmed him with every touch. His body writhed as Jack's hands caressed him, and his tongue came closer to its destination.

Suddenly Jack stopped and pulled away.

"What?" Oscar moaned. His voice sounded more desperate than he would have liked.

"I want you," Jack whispered.

"I want you too," Oscar replied breathlessly.

"No," Jack said searching for the right words. I want you . . . _that way_. Ya know, like we talked about."

Oscar's eyes widened as the thought of what Jack was asking sank in. They'd talked about it briefly on several occasions, but the idea didn't appeal to him, and Jack never pushed the topic. He opened his mouth to protest, but his fear seemed to wash away when Jack pulled him closer and kissed his temple. Oscar didn't speak. He simply nodded his head against Jack's lips.

-o-o-o-o-

Jack grumbled something unintelligible when Oscar shifted from his grasp to reach for his pocket watch. "We'd better get going," he sighed.

"I don't want to move," Jack said pulling Oscar back against his chest.

"I don't want to move either, but if you're not back at the lodging house in twenty minutes you'll be locked out for the night. Then you'll have to sleep in some alley or on a park bench."

"The hell with the lodging house. I'm gonna stay right here with you."

"As much as I'd like that, Jack you know I can't stay."

"Damn-it, Oscar! Can't we have just one lousy night together? When are you gonna grow some balls, and tell Morris and your father to fuck off!"

"C'mon, Jack. You know that I'm not afraid of them anymore. There's nothing they can do to me that they haven't done already. But what about Ma, Jack? Did you for get about her? She can't take care of herself anymore. She doesn't even get out of bed. If I'm not there to feed her those bastards will let her starve."

"I know," Jack groaned. His voice sounded genuinely compassionate. He slid his arms around Oscar and rested his head on the smaller boy's shoulder. "It's just that I had such a good time tonight, and I don't want it to end."

"But it's not gonna end, Jack. You know that it won't be like this forever. You won't see me tomorrow, but I'll be back at work the next day and then - -"

"Where are you gonna be tomorrow?"

"I'm ridin' shotgun on one of the new delivery wagons over to Brooklyn. Your newsie pals out there had a problem with the distribution manager and burned three of the old wagons. Pulitzer doesn't want any more trouble, so he's sending extra guys along with the drivers."

"Well, why the hell do you have to go? Why don't they send that idiot brother of yours? He's a lot meaner than you. Those Brooklyn boys are a pretty tough bunch, and you could get yourself killed if you're not careful."

"Nobody's makin' me go, I volunteered."

"Are you crazy! Why'd you do somethin' stupid like that?"

"I had to do it, Jack. Pop's been talking about sending Ma to Blackwell's Island."

"The Insane Asylum?"

"Yeah. You've heard what that place is like. The rats, and the filth, and the stories about what they do to the patients. I won't let him send her there, Jack. Once they lock you up in that dump you never get out. I can't let that happen to her."

"A'corse you can't, but what's that got to do with you being a fool and takin' that wagon to Brooklyn?"

"I heard about this hospital they have out in St. Johnland. It's the one they call Kings Park. Ma's doctor told me about it. He says that it's a real nice place. The people that go there aren't locked up like at the Asylum. They have a farm right there on the hospital grounds, and the patients help with the work like growing vegetables and milkin' the cows. It would be like it was when Ma was growin' up in the Bronx with Grandpa. She worked on a dairy farm before she met Pop. The doctor said that it would be the best place for her. He said that she could get better if she was there."

"It sounds real nice, Oscar, but what makes you think that you can get her in a place like that? You can't just walk up to the door and ask them to take her in. Besides, a place like that's gonna cost a fortune which you ain't got."

"Ma's doctor said he could get her in, and it wouldn't cost me anything. He gave me the name of this doctor friend of his and a letter tellin' him about Ma. I figure that I could go and meet this guy and check the place out after we make the deliveries. That way Pop wouldn't find out, and I'd be back to work here the next day."

"Is your ma really sick enough to be put into the Asylum?"

"She don't act crazy or nothin' like that. She . . . I don' know how to explain it. She doesn't do anything anymore. She's just been gettin' worse and worse since Grandpa died. Now she won't even eat if I don't make her. It's like she gave up on livin'. If I can get her away from my old man, I'm sure that she'll get better. If I don't, I think that she's just gonna give up all together."

"I guess it's worth a try," Jack said. "But you be careful and watch your back with those Brooklyn guys."

"I'll be fine," Oscar said brushing Jack's hair from his eyes. I'll see you at the distribution center the day after tomorrow. Then I'll meet you back her after dark."

"Okay," Jack smiled as he went to give Oscar a kiss on the neck. Then he hesitated and started to laugh.

"What's so funny?"

"You've got a nice purple mark on the side of your neck . . . .Gee, I wonder how that got there." Jack smirked.

"Oh crap," Oscar muttered as he scurried around the room looking for something that would show his reflection. "Is it a bad one? Can you tell what it is? Can you see it if I button up my collar?"

"Will you calm down!" So you've got a love bite. Big deal. You're not the first guy to come home with one."

"And what do you think Morris is gonna do when he sees this?"

"Maybe he'll stop treatin' you like crap if the thinks that you've finally become a man!"

"I am a man!"

"Well you're actin' like a girl!"

"It's so easy for you isn't it, Jack? You march into the lodging house and give the guys a bullshit story about some girl that you've been with. It makes you some kind of a hero in their eyes, doesn't it?"

"We'll you could do the same thing ya know."

"Morris knows what I am, Jack. He's never seen me take the slightest interest in girls, so it doesn't matter what I tell him. He's gonna take one look at this and know that it was a little present from you."

A sudden flash guilt ran through Jack. He knew how much harder Oscar's life was than his own. He could come and go as he pleased, but Oscar had to account for every moment he was out of his brother's sight.

Jack rummaged through the pile of clothing that had been so quickly discarded and picked up his bandana. "Here," he said as he tied it around Oscar's neck. "Nobody will ever know that you're hiding something under this." Then, Jack stepped back and smiled. "It looks good on you too. You should think about wearin' one of these all the time."

Oscar blushed as he fiddled with the knotted cloth around his neck.

The boy's finished dressing and headed for the window. Oscar began to climb the crates that lead to their exit, but Jack pulled him back by the arm. "Are you okay with this?" Jack asked.

"Sure," Oscar smiled as he ran his hand across the bandana. You're right. Nobody's gonna know that there is anything under here."

"I don't mean the bandana," Jack said, tugging on the ends of the faded red cloth. "I mean are you okay with what we did tonight?"

Oscar blushed as he avoided looking at Jack. "Sure - - Um- - I mean, I didn't think that I would like it, but - - but it was nice,"

"Good," Jack said pulling Oscar against him. "Now we've both got something to look forward to."

Jack didn't go back to the lodging house that night. He didn't want to answer any questions about where he'd been. He curled up on a bench at the far end of the park and went to sleep.

The next morning Morris arrived for work without Oscar.

"So where's that runt your brother or yours," Jack asked. "I didn't think that you were allowed to cross the street without him holding your hand."

"Screw you!" Morris grumbled without furthering their conversation.

When Jack finished selling his papers, he went directly back to the lodging house. He turned down Racetrack's offer to play a few hands of cards and climbed into his bunk. The sooner he went to sleep the sooner tomorrow would come and he would see Oscar again.

Sleep didn't come easy that night. He lied in his bunk thinking about Oscar and their night in the basement. Suddenly, Jack realized his thoughts were having a physical effect on his body. He rolled onto his side so none of the other boys would notice the bulge under his blanket. He had to force himself to think about the time he saw Oscar's uncle kissing a drunken women at McGinty's bar. The memory of Weasel's disgusting mouth on her painted cracked lips soon made Jack's discomfort disappear.

Jack was awake and shaving when Mr. Kloppman entered the bunkroom. The old gentleman raised an eyebrow at the strange sight. Jack had always been one of the toughest of the boys to drag out of bed.

Jack sprinted alongside of Dutchy and Swifty in their daily race to see who could run the fastest. He beat Dutchy and missed catching Swifty by inches.

The circulation bell rang and the boys all laughed and wrestled their way to the window. Jack froze in his steps when he saw a strange boy standing in Oscar's place.

"Who's this mug," Jack huffed as he examined the fat redheaded boy with teeth that stuck out farther then Snitch's.

"This here is Nolan," Morris grinned placing his arm around the boy's shoulder. "He's gonna be taking Oscar's place seeing as my brother's working over in Brooklyn."

"What the hell is Oscar doing in Brooklyn?" Jack snapped. He didn't really care if Morris noticed his anger.

"My brother is doing real good out there. After them Brooklyn newsies burned the wagons, they roughed up a few of the circulation guys. One of the men quit, and Oscar's takin' his place. He's makin' some serous money, and there's a chance that he could get the job permanently."

Jack slammed his coin on the counter and took his papers. He didn't bother to sit and read the headlines. He walked out the gate without a word to anyone.

End – Chapter 5

Thanks for reading. Your reviews will be greatly appreciated.

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A/N: The area of Brooklyn referred to as St. Johnland in now known as Kings Park.


	6. Missing

I do not own Newsies or any of the Newsies characters. To the best of my knowledge they are owned by Disney.

I am making no money from this story.

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SLASH. Jack/Oscar Jack/David

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A/N: This story was written for Lady of Tir Na Nog in honor of her birthday.

This story has not been beta'd. I hope that any rough patches will not be too distracting.

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Chapter 6 - Missing

For the next three days, Jack was consumed with worry over Oscar. He'd said that he would only be gone for the day, and that he would return home that same evening, but there was still no sign of him. Morris claimed that his brother had taken a job at the Brooklyn distribution center, but it didn't seem likely. What did seem likely was that Morris was making up the entire story to get under Jack's skin. Even if Oscar had taken another job, Brooklyn wasn't that far away, and he could have come and told Jack himself.

The idea that something might have happened to Mrs. Delancey had crossed Jack's mind, but Morris was being his usual obnoxious self. If something had happened to his mother even _he_ would show some signs of distress. Jack hated doing it, but he checked the obituaries for her name just to be sure. He was relieved to find that she was not listed among the departed.

Each morning, Morris took great pleasure in torturing Jack. Things came to a head on the forth day when Jack went to buy his papers.

"I got a message from my brother last night," Morris smirked. "He's doin' real good out there in Brooklyn. He says that they fired the distribution chief and hired a young guy to take his place. He must like my brother a whole lot because this guy offered him a job as his assistant. Oscar says he's is real nice, and looks more like a stage actor than a crew chief."

The pulse in Jack's jaw was visible as he clenched his teeth together. He wanted to pull Morris' face through the window bars, but he remained calm. There was no way that Jack would allow Morris to get the better of him. He put on the most dazzling smile he could muster and played along.

"We've finally gotten rid of that pain-in-the-ass brother of yours. Now all we have to do is to get rid of you, and I can die a happy man."

"Well, you couldn't die soon enough for me," Morris spat.

That evening, Jack informed Race that he was headed for Brooklyn to meet with the infamous Spot Conlon. Race grabbed his hat and coat from the bedpost, but was stopped in his tracks.

"Where the hell do you think you're goin'?" Jack asked with a firm thump to his friend's chest.

"Where do I think I'm goin'? I'm goin' with you."

"You ain't goin' anywhere, pal. I need you to stay here and keep an eye on the boys."

"Everything is fine around here. Specs can hold down the fort while we're gone."

"You mean that Specs can help _you_ hold down the fort until I get back."

"Are you stupid or somethin'? There's no way I'm gonna let you go to Brooklyn without me. Conlon and his boys are nothin' to mess around with. Only a fool would travel into their territory alone."

"Don't argue with me, Race. I've got personal business with Spot, and I can't take care of that if I'm worried about how things are goin' back here. I need you to do what I'm askin' and back me up on this. I'll be back tomorrow night."

"If you're not back here by this time tomorrow, me and the guys are ganna come lookin' for ya. And you'd better be dead because if you ain't I'm gonna kill you myself."

"Fair enough," Jack nodded.

The trip into Brooklyn seemed longer than usual, and it gave Jack too much time to think.

"Maybe Oscar did get a new job, like Morris said," Jack mumbled as he walked, "But why the hell didn't he tell me? And why would he disappear after the other night? That was the best damn night we ever had. Is he tryin' to teach me a lesson or somethin'? . . . . Hell no! Oscar wouldn't do that. Somethin' must've happened to him." The thought of Oscar being hurt, or worse, made Jack freeze in his steps. "Get a grip, Kelly!" he scolded himself.

Jack didn't even notice the strange looks he was getting from passers bye. He kept on walking and talking to himself until he reached the dock that was Spot's home.

Jack was greeted with the usual distrust and disdain from Spot's boys. The hair prickled on the back of his neck, but he is face showed no emotion as he walked the gauntlet to meet with Brooklyn's leader.

"How's it rollin' Jackey-boy?" Spot asked as they exchanged a spit-shake. "What brings you to this side of the bridge?"

"I'm here to talk a little business with you," Jack said, glaring at Spot's boys . . . . Private business."

"Sure thing," Spot said nodding his head in the direction of the dilapidated building. "Let's go up to my office."

Jack glanced around the room that Spot called his office, but was actually his living quarters. There was a bed, a table with two mismatched chairs, and little else. The lodging house on Duane Street seemed like a mansion compared to the Brooklyn newsie's home.

"So, what gives, Jackey-boy?" Spot asked as he set a bottle of Irish whiskey and two dented tin cups on the table.

"I came to ask if you had any trouble with the guys that drove in with the new delivery wagons on Monday."

"Nah. Pulitzer sent some goons along with the drivers in-case there was any trouble, but our problem wasn't with those guys it was with the distribution manager. The bum had a habit of givin' the boys a short count when they was buying their papes. He had his guys rough up a couple of my boys when they started complainin'. We sent 'im a message by burnin' some wagons and roughin' up the guys that bloodied my boys. Things have been pretty quiet since then."

"And you're sure that there was no trouble with the drivers or the guys that came with them?"

"Nah. Like I said. Our problem wasn't with them."

Jack raised his cup and nodded at Spot. "Here's to ya," he said throwing back the whiskey and fighting back a shudder.

"And to yourself," Spot replied swallowing the whiskey with one gulp and a grin.

"So, whadda you know about this new guy? The one that took over when they fired the distribution chief. I don't know the guys name but they tell me that he's young and good lookin'."

"You mean the swish?"

Jack's head snapped up at Spot's choice of word. His face reddened, but he didn't reply."

"His name is Conway. He ain't that young, and I don't make a habit of lookin' at sissy boys to see if they're pretty or not." Spot glared at Jack waiting for a response. Jack remained emotionless and returned Spot's glare. It was a though they were playing a high stakes game of poker, and neither wanted to show their hand.

"Conway took over about two weeks ago," Spot continued. "But it wasn't because the other guy got fired. Buckman was a fat old crow who died in his sleep. The poor bastard wasn't even cold when they put this new guy in his place."

"Well, do you know if he got a new assistant? A short guy about our age?"

"What's goin' on Jackey-boy? You didn't come all the way out here to ask if some pencil pushin' queer hired another pencil pusher to wipe his nose. What are you really lookin' for?"

"Well, one of the guys that was ridin' along with the drivers never came back. I heard that he was workin' for this Conway guy, and I wanted to check it out for myself."

"If this guy's gone missin' why ain't Pulitzer sent somebody to look for him? What's your stake in this?"

"This has nothing to do with the paper, Spot. This is strictly a personal matter. I guarantee you that this ain't gonna affect you or your boys in any way. I give you my word on it."

"Fair enough," Spot replied.

"I'm gonna ask you to keep this between you and me. Like I said, this is a personal matter, and I'd rather nobody find out about it."

"Ya got my word on it Jackey-boy. This is between you and me. Leader to leader." Spot poured them each another drink and leaned back in his chair. "Now about this kid you're lookin' for. All's I can tell you is that none of my guys had a beef with any of them guys. Nothin' happened to them while they was on this side of the bridge. As far as Conway goes, it don't seem likely that he would hire one of Pulitzer's goons to be his lackey. There are enough morons in that building that have paid their dues. More'n likely one of them woulda gotten the job. That is, unless this kid had something that the others didn't. Like maybe Conway thought that he could get somethin' outa him, if you know what I mean."

Jack's poker face disappeared, and anger took its place.

"You don't think that this Conway guy is doin' somethin' with this kid, do ya, Kelly? I mean, I'm all for live and let live until somebody crosses the line. If this guy is botherin' that kid, I'll take a few of my boys and we'll teach 'em a lesson he won't soon forget."

"I ain't lookin' to start any trouble, Spot. I don't even know if these two guys know each other. All I do know is that this kid ain't been seen around Manhattan since he left for Brooklyn on one of those wagons. I appreciate your offer, but for now, I wanna keep my cards close to my vest . . . . But there is another favor I'd like to ask you. Can you put me up for the night? I wanna be at the Brooklyn distribution center tomorrow morning when the workers arrive. I've gotta find this guy, and I wanna get a look at this Conway fella for myself."

"Sure thing, Cowboy. I'll have the boys bring a cot up here. You can stay with me, and then we can leave in the morning before the others get up."

"Whadda you mean we? This ain't your problem. All I'm askin' is a place to stay for the night."

"First of all, you don't know this town or that building like I do. You could be watchin' the wrong place and miss the both of them. Besides, this is my town, and nothin' goes on here without my say-so. And what I say is you ain't goin' without me."

As planned, Spot and Jack were perched on a roof diagonally across from the distribution center before the workers arrived. They had a clear view of two sides of the building.

"The delivery wagons and the distribution guys come in through the gate on this side," Spot pointed with his walking stick. "Most of the circulation guys and the office workers go in through the small gate over on that side. There is a chance that your guy could use another entrance, but it ain't likely. This is where Conway goes in, so if their workin' together chances are that they' be usin' the same gate."

Jack's eyes scanned the workers as they entered the building. He watched carefully as the wagons pulled through the gate. There was no way that any of the guys riding on the wagons was Oscar. They were all big and burly men. None of whom could be confused with a boy of seventeen. Jack's stomach tightened when he thought about the small boy being sent to do a man's job.

"That's Conway over there," Spot whispered. He's the guy in the striped suit and bowtie."

Jack examined the man as he walked toward the building. "He ain't so young," Jack huffed. "He's gotta be at least thirty."

"What'd you expect? Ya think that they're gonna give that job to somebody our age?"

"He ain't all that good-lookin' either," Jack grumbled. The remark earned a puzzled and uncomfortable look from the Brooklyn leader.

"Well, that should be all of 'im, Jackey-boy. Either this kid you're lookin' for went in through another gate, or he don't work for Conway. Like I said, there are enough morons that have paid their dues and would be in line for that job. Conway ain't gonna go givin' it to some kid without a good reason."

The next morning, Jack was dressed and out of the lodging house before Mr. Kloppman was out of bed. He situated himself in the alley across from the Delancey's apartment building and waited. Finally, Morris came out, sauntered up the block, and turned the corner. Jack wasn't worried about running into Mr. Delancey because his job at the stockyards started at four in the morning, and he would be long gone. Jack crossed the street and went up to the second floor apartment.

Jack knocked on the door, but nobody answered. He was about to go up to the roof and climb down the fire escape to get a look inside when the door to the kitchen opened.

"Whadda you want?" the unpleasant looking old woman asked.

"I'm lookin' for Oscar Delancey, ma'am. I'm a friend of his."

"You just missed him. He's gone to work already," she answered gruffly.

"No, ma'am. I'm lookin' for Oscar. That was his brother, Morris that just left for work."

"Oh you mean the little one? Well he ain't here either. He left for work too."

"But they work together, I mean they did work together - -."

"Look kid. I've got work of my own to do. I've gotta take care of the misses. What her boys do, and where they go ain't no business of mine."

"Well, can you tell me if Oscar's been stayin' here? Did he move someplace else maybe?"

"A'corse he's stayin' here. This is his home ain't it?"

"And he's been here all week?"

"Yeah, he's been here all week. Now, like I said I've got work to do, and I ain't got time to stand here and answer the questions of some kid." With that she slammed the door in Jack's face.

Jack was angrier than he could ever have imagined. Oscar wasn't sick, and he wasn't missing. He was working in Brooklyn, and he was living at home in Manhattan like always. That meant that he could have met Jack in the basement of the printing office like they'd planned. He could have talked to Jack face to face about the new job. Instead, he'd been sneaking off to Brooklyn and his job with Conway.

Jack went to the distribution office to buy his papers. "A hundred papes," he said, slamming his coin on the counter.

Jack seethed as he trudged through the streets selling his papers. He was lucky that the headline was good that day. If it wasn't, he certainly wouldn't have sold them all. There were no charming words and no winning smile that day. He actually scared one woman away by shouting; "Look lady! Do you wanna buy a paper or not!" as she searched through her purse for a penny.

There wasn't much rest for anyone at the lodging house that night. Jack mumbled, and cursed, and thrashed around in his squeaky bunk. Finally, Crutchy couldn't stand it anymore. He took his crutch and poked at Jack through the thin mattress. "Will you knock it off already? Some of us would like to get a little sleep!"

Jack cursed under his breath, and took his blanket and went out onto the fire escape. He stayed brooding out there until the sun came up.

Everyone kept their distance from Jack as they stood in line outside the gate. The long and sleepless night did nothing to ease his anger. Suddenly, Jack's head snapped around at the sound of a familiar chuckle.

The Delancey brothers were approaching the line, and Jack gaped at the sight. Oscar was standing in front of him and sporting a grin from ear-to-ear. Without warning, Jack's fist met with Oscar's smile.

The two boys rolled around on the ground landing punch after punch. There was nothing that the newsies liked better than watching a good fight, but it soon became evident that this was no ordinary brawl. They were trying to kill each other. It took Skittery, Dutchy, Snoddy, and Specs to pull them apart.

A thrill flashed through Jack's body as the smaller boy fell to one knee holding his ribs. For a moment nobody moved. Then Mush stepped forward and helped Oscar to his feet. Mush locked eyes with Jack daring him to say something, but Jack just snorted and walked away.

Nobody noticed that Morris had been watching the entire time with a satisfied smile on his face.

-o-o-o-o-

A loud sneeze from Oscar, snapped Jack back to the present. He was as angry as he'd been that morning at the gate. All of the disgust, and the hurt, and the hatred came surging back.

Jack stood and crossed the room. He glared at Oscar who was still sitting in the same place. The half empty bottle of whiskey was at his side, and the cigar box was open in his lap.

"I wanna know what's in that damn box, and I want to know now!" Jack shouted as he charged toward Oscar.

End Chapter 6

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Thanks for reading. Your reviews will be greatly appreciated. 


	7. The Showdown

I do not own Newsies or any of the Newsies characters. To the best of my knowledge they are owned by Disney.

I am making no money from this story.

* * *

SLASH. Jack/Oscar Jack/David

* * *

A/N: This story was written for Lady of Tir Na Nog in honor of her birthday. 

This story has not been beta'd. I hope that any rough patches will not be too distracting.

* * *

Chapter 7 – The Showdown 

"I wanna know what's in that damn box!" Jack shouted as he lunged forward. He grabbed Oscar's arm sending the box, and its contents, flying across the room.

"That's it, Kelly," Oscar hissed as he moved toward Jack. His eyes were drawn into narrow slits, and his fingers were clenched into white knuckled fists.

Jack took an instinctive step back, and both boys heard a crunch from under his boot.

An ache gripped Oscar's stomach as he watched Jack pick up the frame that held his mother's picture. The chinking sound rang in his ears as small shards of glass fell to the floor.

"I'm sorry," Jack said handing over the picture.

Oscar's breath snorted through his teeth as he charged at forward. He hit the taller boy square in the middle, and sent them both crashing to the floor. Oscar's arms flailed wildly as his fists beat against Jack's body.

"I'm sorry!" Jack shouted. He was using his arms to fend off the blows but made no move to strike back. "It was an accident! I didn't mean it!"

Finally, Oscar's rage had consumed his energy, and he rolled off of Jack. It took all of the strength he could muster to pull himself up and lean against the wall.

"Damn-it, Cowboy. Why couldn't you just let me be? You took everything. Why couldn't you just leave me with the little I had left?"

"What the hell did I ever take from you?"

"You took everything, Jack. You took my childhood because after the first day I brought you home all of my memories are of you and me together. You took my life after that first kiss because from then on everything I did, and everything I wanted, revolved around you . . . . Then you took me, Jack. You took me right here in this room, and then you turned on me. Now you have everything, and I have nothing."

"Don't blame me for your sorry life, pal. You're the one who went to Brooklyn to play house with that bastard, Conway."

"Who the fuck is Conway?"

"How big a fool do you think I am?"

"You don't really want me to answer that, do ya, Kelly?"

"You disappeared without a word. I thought that you were dead or somethin'. I even went to Brooklyn to try and find you. Then Spot Conlon tells me that this Conway is a _queer_ . . . . You must've thought it was real funny that I was waitin' for you in this stinkin' basement while you were out in Brooklyn screwin' with that bastard."

"First of all, I'd be careful about callin' anybody a queer if I was _you_, Kelly. Second, I don't know what the hell you're talkin' about. I don't know anybody named Conway."

"Don't give me that crap! Your brother told me how much Conway liked you and that he offered you that job out in Brooklyn."

"And since when do you listen to anything that Morris says? He's a lying son-of-a-bitch who hates the sight of you. The thought of you dying is like a wet dream to that moron."

"Well, if you weren't in Brooklyn than what the hell happened to you?"

"This happened!" Oscar got to his knees and lifted the front of his shirt. "_This_ is why I couldn't meet you here that night!"

The blood drained from Jack's face when he saw at the jagged scar along Oscar's ribs. It was a good seven inches in length and looked as though it was sewn together by a drunken sailor.

"Christ, Oscar," Jack whispered. He had to swallow hard to keep the contents of his stomach down. He shuddered as their last night together flashed through his mind. He remembered the feel of Oscar's flawless skin as his hands, and mouth, experienced every inch of the small and prefect body. Jack reached out to touch the scar, but his hand was slapped away.

"It's a real beauty isn't it?" Oscar sneered as he ran his hand along its length.

"What the hell happened?"

"Well, Jackey-boy. I guess that neither of us was as smart as we thought. When I walked into the house after leavin' here that night, Morris took one look at the bandanna around my neck and knew that it was yours. We traded a few punches, and I was holdin' my own against that goon, but then he got a look at what was underneath the bandanna. He was beatin' the shit outa me when Pop came home. Morris showed him the mark on my neck and told him that you'd put it there. Then my loving and understanding father told me that he'd rather have a dead son than a queer one, so he cut me."

"Damn, Oscar. You're lucky you're still alive."

"I wouldn't be if it wasn't for Ma . . . . You shoulda seen her, Jack. She hadn't gotten outa bed for weeks, and there she was. She picked up that big iron frying pan of hers and screamed for Pop to keep his hands offa me. Then she smacked him upside of the head."

Oscar reached into his shirt pocket and took out a cigarette. He struck a match against the wall and took a slow deep draw. "Then Ma walked over and patted me on the cheek like nothin' was wrong. She smiled and called me her _little boy_ like she did when I was a kid. Then she walked back into her bedroom and closed the door. That was the last thing that Ma ever said to me. She never said a word after that night."

In a surprisingly friendly gesture, Oscar handed the cigarette to Jack.

"So how'd they get you stitched up?" Jack asked through the smoke escaping his lips.

"Morris went and got that old guy that does odd jobs around the neighborhood. He was a doctor till he killed too many patients by operating on them when he was drunk. I guess you can tell that he'd been drinkin' when he stitched me up too. When my old man came to, he let outa there like he was on fire. I guess that Pop was afraid that he'd be thrown into jail or somethin' cause he ain't been back since. Anyways, Morris paid the doc's old lady to come and take care of me and Ma while he was at work. I never made it to Brooklyn, Jack. I never left the house until the morning we had that fight at the gate."

"Jeese, Oscar. Why didn't you tell me about all this?"

"Why didn't you let me tell you? I tried to come and see you the next day. I got myself outa bed and was tryin' to get dressed when the dock's lousy stitchin' pulled open. He wasn't happy about havin' to stitch me up again. That's when he started giving me laudanum to keep me still. I wanted you to know that we were finally rid of Pop. I figured that with him gone, you and me could easily handle Morris. Then Ma would be safe, and you and me could be together again."

Oscar took a final drag on his cigarette then crushed it out on the floor. "I came to see you as soon as I could, Cowboy. And nothin' ever looked as good to me as you did that morning . . . . Then you punched me in the face, and that was the last time you talked to me. Well, except to pick a fight or somethin', that is."

"Oscar, if I'd known - -"

"You didn't want to know! You were tired of being with me, and you were lookin' for an excuse to get away. For months all you did was bitch about everything. It took less than a month for you to find a new best friend and a new family. Then Ma died a week after that."

"Yeah . . . . Like I said. I was real sorry to hear about your ma. I wanted to come and pay my respects, but . . . ."

"But you were too busy with Davey, and that damn strike of yours. It woulda been bad for your image to be seen at the funeral of Oscar and Morris' mother."

Oscar's words stung. Mostly because they were true.

"It was only five weeks, Jack. After all the time we waited, you couldn't hold out for five more weeks?" Oscar leaned his head back against the wall and laughed. "What am I saying? How could I expect you to wait five whole weeks? You wrote me off completely after one week. Hell, you wouldn't even wait five minutes for me to explain what happened! . . . .Well, you got what you wanted, Jack. You got it all, and I got this," Oscar muttered tapping his hand over the scar.

Jack couldn't answer. He knew that Oscar was right. He had been a bastard up until that last night. There was nothing he could say to convince Oscar that he was wrong about their last night together. It had changed everything.

Jack got to his feet and began gathering the contents of the cigar box that were now strewn across the room.

"Let that crap lay where it is, Jack. I don't want it anymore."

Jack ignored Oscar's grumbling and continued collecting the mementos. He found the cigar box lying on its side amongst its former contents. He turned the box over and was taken aback by the sight of the old Indian headband and faded red bandanna

"You kept these?" Jack asked with amazement. "After everything that happened, you still have this stuff?"

"Pitiful ain't it?" Oscar said, rubbing his hands roughly over his face. "Davey's sister's got that rotten old corsage in her memory box, and I have a crappy old headband, and a sweat stained bandanna. Christ! I didn't realize how pitiful I was until now."

"You're not pitiful. You're - - you're amazing."

"Don't mock me, Kelly!"

"I ain't mockin' you, Oscar. I'm serious! I was so damned quick to give up on . . . . Well, on everything. But you kept this stuff after all that happened."

"Shut your mouth, Cowboy, or I'll shut it for you!"

"But you don't understand," Jack said moving closer. "That last night here made things different. It was good between you and me again. I waited for you, Oscar. I waited all night. And then I tried to find you."

"Get away from me, Cowboy or so help me I'll make you sorry you ever met me!"

"No!" Jack said, holding up the bandanna and headband. "Don't try to pretend that you don't care about us because this proves that you do!"

Jack barely finished speaking when Oscar's fist collided with his jaw. He fell against a table but righted himself immediately. He spat out a small amount of blood and wiped his mouth on his sleeve. "I ain't gonna be a fool this time, Chief. I ain't goin' away."

"Don't call me that, Cowboy," Oscar ordered, grabbing him by the vest and shaking him violently. "Don't you ever call me that again!"

"It ain't gonna work, Chief. I know that you still have feelin's for me."

Oscar slammed Jack against a support beam causing his breath to escape with a sharp thud. "What do you want from me, Cowboy! Why won't you just leave me alone!"

"Because this is what's right! It was you and me together all those years that was right. Your pop and Morris were wrong, and I was wrong for givin' up and not trustin' you. Even after Grandpa was gone and your ma took sick you held on. Your pop and Morris fought you every step of the way, and you still held on. Christ, you're half the size of your father, and you're more of a man than he ever was."

"Damn, Cowboy. All those years of makin' up headlines has turned you into quite a salesman."

"Whadda you mean by that?"

"I mean that you've got a better line of crap than my brother. I know you, Cowboy, and I know that you're workin' some kind of angle on me. . . . What's the matter? Ain't Davey-boy been takin' care of business? Did you have to come sniffin' around here to get - -"

"Don't say it, Oscar."

"Why not, Cowboy? That's what you really want, ain't it? The truth hurts when it slams you in the face, doesn't it? Well, let me make this easy on you."

Jack gaped as Oscar began unbuttoning his shirt. "What the hell are you doin'?" he asked guardedly.

"Like I said, I'm makin' this easy on you. This is what you came here for isn't it, Jackey-boy?"

"Quit talkin' crazy!"

"I'm not crazy," Oscar laughed as he pulled his undershirt over his head. "I've finally figured out what this thing between you and me was about. It took me a while, but I finally get it. So spare me your sales pitch, and let's get down to business, okay?"

Jack flinched when the undershirt hit him in the face. "Christ, Oscar. Quit actin' like a girl," he said flinging the shirt back at its owner.

"I'm not a girl, damn-it! I'm a man! I'm as good a man as you'll ever find. And don't let my size fool you, Cowboy. I've taken a lot of beatings the past couple of years, and I can easily kick the crap outa you!"

"I know you're a man, Oscar. And I ain't lookin' to fight you."

"Good, cause I ain't lookin' to fight you either." Oscar had closed the distance between them, and for the first time since they'd met as children, he was making Jack squirm. Despite his size, Jack suddenly felt very small.

"Okay, Oscar. You've proved your point. You can back off now."

"I'm not tryin' to prove anything, Cowboy."

"Cut the crap, Oscar. I ain't gonna play this game with you."

"I ain't playin', Cowboy." Oscar placed a rough hand on the back of Jack's neck. "This ain't a game."

The kiss was angry and hard as their teeth clashed together. Jack hesitated for a moment, but he quickly gave in to the familiar feel and taste that was Oscar. A shiver ran through his veins as Oscar's warm breath washed over his throat. His voice came in a low and guttural moan when Oscar stopped and sank his teeth into the sensitive spot at the base of his neck.

Oscar's excitement was evident against his leg, and Jack shifted his hips to feel its full effect against his own awakening excitement. His breath came in ragged gasps as their bodies moved rhythmically against each other. He wanted Oscar more than he'd ever wanted anything. "Chief," he whispered in a slow and shameless breath. "Chief . . . ."

"Damn-it, Cowboy," Oscar sighed letting his arms drop to his sides. He pulled himself from Jack's arms and turned away.

"What's wrong?" Jack asked breathlessly.

"I can't do this, Cowboy. I can't do this just to call your bluff."

"Is that what you're doin'?"

Oscar didn't answer he simply shrugged his shoulders and shook his head.

"I don't think so. I think that you want this as much as I do."

"That's crazy!"

"No. What's crazy is that I listened to Morris and that I didn't trust you. What's crazy is the way you and me have been actin' towards each other."

Oscar shivered from the cold and crossed his arms over his chest for warmth. Jack picked up the discarded shirt and placed it on his shoulders. Oscar pushed him away, but Jack pushed back harder. "Will you stop being such an ass," he said pulling the shivering boy against his body. Jack ran his warm hands across firm muscles of Oscar's arms and back. The feel of Oscar's body always excited and amazed him. He had always looked so weak and frail in Morris' ill-fitting hand-me-down clothing.

The scent of bay rum and cheap hair tonic filled Oscar's senses as he buried his head in Jack's shoulder. He became lost in the sent and the feel of Jack against him, and he hated himself for doing so. When he felt the soft and gentle kiss on his temple, Oscar instinctively moved his mouth to Jack's. He moaned slightly as Jack's tongue passed through his lips, and he surrendered completely when the hand slipped past his waistband.

Jack's hands moved easily over Oscar's body. The smell of the damp and musty basement was washed away by the memory of autumn air, crisp fallen leaves, and butter and jelly sandwiches. Oscar's body was warm and familiar. It was the first time Jack felt whole since their last night together.

End Chapter 7

Thanks for reading. Your reviews will be greatly appreciated.

* * *

A/N: My thanks to those who have reviewed this story. Due to a technical problem I was having with fanfiction, you may not have received a review reply for the last two chapters. Be assured that I did reply and that I am grateful for all of the reviews I receive. 


	8. Together Again

I do not own Newsies or any of the Newsies characters. To the best of my knowledge they are owned by Disney.

I am making no money from this story.

* * *

SLASH. Jack/Oscar Jack/David

* * *

A/N: This story was written for Lady of Tir Na Nog in honor of her birthday. 

This story has not been beta'd. I hope that any rough patches will not be too distracting.

* * *

Chapter 8 – Together Again 

Jack was lying comfortably with his head on Oscar's lap. He hesitated for a moment and then ran his fingers over the scar that shown through Oscar's open shirt.

"Does it hurt?"

"Sometimes," Oscar shrugged. "Like if I try and lift something heavy or bend the wrong way. It doesn't slow me down much."

"That's why you were holdin' your ribs that day we had the fight, isn't it?"

Oscar shrugged without looking at Jack.

"I don't know how you could fight with a cut like that. It must've hurt like hell."

"I was so angry that I didn't even feel it until they pulled us apart."

"And here I thought that it was my exceptional fighting skills that took you down," Jack smirked.

"Not even on your best day, Cowboy," Oscar smiled.

"Damn, I'm sorry."

"I'm just glad that your pal Mush had the guts to stand up to you and help me. If he didn't, I'd still be kneeling there."

"Yeah, I didn't think Mush had it in 'em. He's got more balls than I gave him credit for."

"And he's good-lookin' too," Oscar grinned.

"Hey!" Jack said, sitting up defensively. "Since when do you go noticing if a guy is good-lookin' or not?"

"Since always, you moron. I ain't blind you know."

"There's a lot more to you than I ever knew about," Jack huffed.

"Yea, there is," Oscar replied coldly.

Jack shifted positions and pulled Oscar to lie against his chest. "Everything will be good again, Chief. You and me are gonna make up for all the time we've missed since Grandpa died. We're gonna do and see all the things that we talked about."

"It's a little late for that, Cowboy. Things have changed. We ain't the same people as we were back then. We can't go back to being kids again."

"It ain't too late. This is what we were waitin' all these years for. There's nothin' to stop us from being together now."

"Nothing but a thousand newsies and tomorrow's headlines. You're a hero now. You're Jack freakin' Kelly. You're famous like you've always wanted."

"You're what I always wanted. Sellin' newspapers is a job. And it's a lousy job too. I want more outa life than just scratchin' out a livin'."

"And what about David, Jack? Have you forgotten about him and his family?"

"No, I haven't forgotten about Dave. He's a good guy, and I do care about him, but it ain't the same. You and me have been together since we were kids. I like Dave. I like him a lot, but I love you."

Oscar stared at Jack. He didn't realize it, but his jaw was hanging slightly open.

"What?" Jack grumbled looking a bit indignant. "You didn't know I love you?"

"I guess I knew, but I never expected you to say it."

"Are you sayin' that you don't love me?"

"Of course I love you, Jack. I've loved you since before you kissed me that first time. I realized it one afternoon when we were sittin' at the kitchen table with Ma. We were drinking milk and eatin' her special applesauce cake. I was doin' my homework and Ma was helping you with your reading. I remember that you were arguing with her about the words rough, bough, and through. You insisted that she had to be wrong about the way they were spelled because they couldn't possibly all end in o-u-g-h. You said that the words all sounded different, so they had to be spelled different. You told Ma that she was a nice lady and that she was pretty too, but you didn't think she was very smart. You insisted that the word rough had to end with two f's. You were so damn sure of yourself that Ma had to fight to keep from laughing. That's when I realized that I loved you."

"Well, whether I ever told you or not, I do love you . . . . And your ma was pretty, and whoever invented spelling did a lousy job because rough should be spelled with two f's!"

"I love you too, Cowboy," Oscar said brushing the hair from Jack's eyes and placing a gentle kiss on his lips.

"Things are gonna be different for you and me, Chief. You wait and see. We can take off for someplace better, and let the wind blow the stink of this town off us. Maybe we can go to Santa Fe like we talked about. Grandpa said that it was the most beautiful place he'd ever seen."

"If I remember correctly, Grandpa said that the Bronx was the most beautiful place he'd ever seen. When he told us about Santa Fe, _you_ said that it sounded like the most beautiful place you'd ever heard of."

"Whatever. The point is that now we can go there like we always wanted."

"Santa Fe was your dream, Jack. I'm a city boy, born and bred, and that's where I belong. I can't see myself livin' among the cactus and tumbleweeds."

"I guess we are a little old for playin' Cowboys and Indians, ha Chief? Well, maybe we can visit there sometime. Ya know, just to see what it's like. Livin' in the city is fine by me. There are a lot of places we could go to start over. We could go to Boston or Chicago or St. Louis. Just so long as you and me are together, I don't much care where we are."

"You're still forgetting about David. Where does he fit in?"

"Will you quit talking about Dave? That was only for a couple of months. You and me have been together since we were kids. I'll have a talk with him and explain everything. Dave is a good guy. He'll understand."

"Will he, Jack?"

"Yeah, he will. Dave and me are friends mostly. We sell together, and pal around together and - -"

"And is that all you do together?"

"No, Oscar it ain't. Now quit soundin' like a jealous girl."

"I ain't jealous, and stop comparing me to girls. I hate it when you do that."

"I know," Jack smirked. "That's why I do it."

"I'm tryin' to show you that Dave may think you and him are more than friends. I think that maybe you thought so too until tonight."

"I don't love Dave, and I never told him that I did."

"You never said that you loved me until just now."

"Quit worryin'. I told you that it ain't like that between Dave and me. I'll talk to him, and everything will be okay. I'm tellin' you that he'll understand."

"Will you tell him first thing tomorrow?"

"Yeah. I'll tell him as soon as I see him in the morning. Then tomorrow night you and me are goin' out to celebrate. We'll go to China Town and have some supper and then maybe take in a show."

"Aren't you afraid that someone will see us together? Havin' supper with a Delancey could be real bad for your image. Your friends might think that you're traitor."

"I don't care what they think. You and me are gonna paint this town red, and the hell with everybody else. It's not like I'm gonna be livin' with those guys forever. We're only gonna be around here long enough to save some money and then take off, right?"

"Is that what you want, Cowboy?"

"A'corse that's what I want. That's what I've always wanted. It's what _we've_ always wanted. You ain't changed your mind, have ya."

"No, Cowboy. I ain't changed my mind."

"Good. Then tomorrow you and me are gonna celebrate. And in a few months we can kiss this town goodbye. We'll get as far away from Pulitzer's stinkin' newspaper and your lousy brother as we can. We've waited a long time for this, and nothin' is gonna stop us from--"

There was a sudden noise and thunderous voices coming from outside the window. Oscar scrambled across the room to blow out the lantern.

"What the hell was that?" Jack whispered.

"That's the crew getting the delivery wagons ready. They'll be hitchin' up the horses soon. Then they'll line up on the other side of the building to get their wagons loaded."

"Damn. I'm almost sorry there here. I don't wanna leave."

"Me either."

"Well, we'll meet at the gate same time tomorrow night, and I'll show you what a good time really is."

"Cowboy?"

"Yeah, Chief?"

"I do love you."

"Yeah, I know. And I love you too, Dave."

"What?"

"I said that I love you too, Da - - Uh, Chief."

Oscar sat up and leaned against the wall next to Jack.

"C'mon, Oscar. You know I didn't mean to call you Dave. It's just that we were talkin' about him, and--"

"I know," Oscar said. He avoided looking at Jack and reached into his pocket for a cigarette.

"Really, Chief. You know I didn't mean it. It was just a lousy slip of the tongue."

"I know, Jack. I ain't mad, so just drop it, okay?"

After a few moments, Oscar struck a match to light his cigarette. Jack watched as the flame lit his face. Oscar drew in a breath until the end of the cigarette glowed then he blew out the match without looking over at Jack.

"You do know that I love you, Don't ya, Oscar?"

"Yeah, Cowboy. I know."

Jack waited for Oscar to return the sentiment, but he didn't."

"Look, Oscar. I--"

"Do you think that you'll have any trouble sneakin' into the lodging house when we get outa here?" Oscar asked, trying to change the subject.

"I ain't gonna try. I'm gonna go over to the park and curl up on a bench till it's time to go to work. You know I can sleep anywhere. I'm dead to the world as soon as I lay down my head."

"Yeah, I remember. And you snore louder than anybody I've ever known. You used to keep me awake when we were sleepin' at Grandpa's. I'd shake you, poke at you, and one time I even rolled you off the bed and you still didn't wake up. You just curled up on the floor and kept on snorin'."

"Well, I am a good sleeper."

Again the two fell back into an uncomfortable silence. Finally Jack couldn't take it any longer. "Are we okay, Chief? You know that I didn't mean to call you Dave, right? You know that it didn't mean anything."

"It's okay, Jack. I'm okay. It just took me by surprise is all."

"Then you still - - ya know . . . ."

"Honestly, Jack. If I didn't stop loving you after you punched me in the face, beat the crap outa me, and then dumped me, I sure wouldn't stop loving you over something like that."

"There you go soundin' like a girl again."

"Quit sayin' that. I hate when you do that."

"I know," Jack grinned. "That's why I do it . . . . And I do love you, Chief. I'm always gonna love you."

"I'll always love you too, Cowboy."

End - Chapter 8

Thanks for reading. Your reviews will be greatly appreciated.

* * *

A/N: There is only one more chapter to go. I hope that you will stick around for the end.


	9. A Chance to Be Happy

I do not own Newsies or any of the Newsies characters. To the best of my knowledge they are owned by Disney.

I am making no money from this story.

* * *

SLASH. Jack/Oscar Jack/David

* * *

A/N: This story was written for Lady of Tir Na Nog in honor of her birthday. 

This story has not been beta'd. I hope that any rough patches will not be too distracting.

* * *

Chapter 9 – A Chance to Be Happy 

Jack was awakened by the sound a something hitting the park bench. "C'mon, Kelly. Will ya wake up already?"

Jack opened one eye and saw a policeman's uniform and a fist wrapped around a nightstick. He jumped up still half asleep and fell flat on his face.

"Are you drunk or somethin', Kelly?" The officer asked, pulling Jack up by the arm.

Jack looked up and recognized the officer's face. "Damn, Nolan. I didn't know it was you. I woke up and saw the uniform and thought I was being arrested or somethin'"

"You must've been pretty drunk to have passed out like that. You looked like you were dead. I thought that you'd finally made someone angry enough to kill you," he laughed."

"I'm not drunk. I always sleep like that. I'm just hard to wake up is all."

"Well, what the hell are you doin' sleepin' out here anyway? Did you get yourself thrown out of Kloppman's place?"

"Nah. I ran into an old friend and we got to talkin'. Before I knew it I'd stayed out past curfew, and you know how strict Kloppman is about locking that door. I figured that it would be better to sleep here than to risk getting him mad by trying to sneak in through a window or somethin'."

"Well, unless you wanna lose out on a day's pay, you'd better get your ass movin'. That circulation bell is gonna ring in about forty-five minutes."

"Shit! Thanks, Nolan. I owe you one," Jack said as he grabbed his hat and ran toward the World Building.

Jack got to the gate just as David and Less arrived. "What happened to you," David laughed. "It looks like you slept in your clothes last night." Then David took a closer look at his partner's face. "Did you get any sleep at all, Jack? You look terrible."

Jack took a few pennies out of his trouser pocket and gave them to Less. "Do me a favor, pal. Run over to the bakery. The one two blocks over, and across from Klein's Pharmacy. Get us each a doughnut. I didn't have breakfast today and I'm starvin'."

"But there's a bakery right across the street. Why don't you get something from over there?" David asked.

"Cause I like the doughnuts from the other bakery, Dave!"

"I don't mind goin'," Less huffed, giving his brother a sour look. "I'll be back before you know it."

"Okay, Jack," David said when his brother was out of earshot. "You were obviously trying to get rid of Less, so tell me what's going on."

"I wanted to talk to you alone, Dave."

"Jack, are you feeling alright?" David asked putting a hand on his friend's brow.

"I'm fine, Dave," Jack said, pushing his hand away. "But I need to talk to you about something."

"What's that hanging out of your pocket?"

"What?"

"This," David said reaching into Jack's jacket pocket. "Since when does a cowboy need and Indian headband?" David chuckled.

"Gimme that!" Jack snapped, grabbing the headband back from David. When he shoved it back into his pocket he felt a folded piece of paper. Jack knew that his pocket was empty when he left the basement. His stomach knotted when he realized that Oscar must have come by and slipped them into his pocket while he was sleeping. He drew out the paper and stared blankly at its crisp folded edges.

"What's wrong?" David asked, taking a step forward.

Jack waved him away without looking up. He turned his back on David and unfolded the paper.

_Cowboy,_

_I realized this morning that we can't go back again. Too much has changed over the past year. We're not the same people as we were back at Grandpa's place. You have a new life and a new family and a new best friend. New York is your home. You are where you belong. I was living in the past, but I can't do that anymore. It's time I made a life for myself. _

_I will always remember Grandpa's house and our time together. I will always remember when you were a part of my family. I know that you love me, Cowboy. But I also know that you love David._

_If you left with me, you would eventually realize how much he means to you, and you would want to come back. If I stayed here, I couldn't stand to see you together._

_It's time for me to find a new place to call home. New York isn't my home anymore. Everything that made it my home is not gone. _

_I love you, Cowboy. I will always love you. _

_Chief_

"What's wrong, Jack?" David asked, reading the panic in his face.

"I've gotta go, Dave. I'm sorry, but . . . ." Jack didn't finish the sentence. He turned and ran toward the Delancey's apartment building.

Jack ran up the stairs two at a time until he reached the second floor. He banged on the door frantically calling for Oscar. Finally, the door swung open. "What do you want, street rat," Morris spat.

"Get outa my way, Morris or so help me, I'll kill you." He pushed Morris out of the doorway and charged inside calling Oscar's name. He stormed from room to room opening doors and then slamming them shut. "Where is he, Morris!" Jack shouted as he grabbed Oscar's brother by the throat and slammed him against the wall.

"He ain't here, Kelly. He packed a bag and took off about an hour ago."

"You're lyin'! Where the hell is he?"

"I told you he's gone! He said that he'd finally had enough of this city and it was time that he got the hell away from here. I thought that the kid took off with you, but I guess that he's got more sense than I gave him credit for."

When his fist hit Morris' nose, Jack could feel the crunch as it broke. "I asked you where he went!" Jack said waving his fist in Morris' face.

"I told you I don't know!" Morris snorted and choked on the blood from his broken nose. "He didn't tell me where he was goin', he just left!" Then Morris' eyes sparkled and his mouth curled into a satisfied grin. "He obviously didn't tell you either. I guess the kid finally got smart and saw you for the lyin' fagot that you are."

"You son-of-a-bitch!" Jack shouted as he rammed his fist into Morris' stomach. "This is all your fault. You and that sick bastard old man of yours!"

Morris clenched his stomach and gasped for air. "You're the sick bastard, Cowboy. You're the one who turned my brother into a stinkin' queer."

"You bastard!" Jack shouted hitting Morris in the ribs. "Why couldn't you just leave us alone? He's your brother for Christ sake!"

By now, Jack was punctuating each sentence with another blow to Morris' body.

"You beat him, and you made his life miserable every minute since Grandpa died. You let your ma waste away until she finally went crazy and died from her misery. You and that bastard father of yours made Oscar's life a living hell!" Jack hit Morris once more then dropped his beaten body to the floor.

Morris grunted and gasped for air as he pulled himself up onto one knee. He struggled in a breath as he held his broken ribs. "Well, it was all worth it," he mumbled through the blood and saliva dripping from his swollen lips. "He's left you, Cowboy. He finally sees you for the sick bastard that you are . . . . I win."

"I should have done this to you years ago," Jack said calmly as he hit Morris one final time.

Jack ran down the stairs and out into the street. He paced madly in front of the building not knowing where to go. "Damn-it, Chief," he mumbled. "Damn-it! Where the fuck are you? . . . . A city! He said that he was a city boy and wanted to live in a city. . . . But which one?"

Jack quickly ran the options through his mind. Oscar could have gone to the docks and boarded a ship to Boston, or he could have taken a coach to any of the cities. A coach was the least expensive way to go, but it was also the slowest means of travel. Then Jack remembered the money that Oscar had saved in the cigar box. He'd saved enough that he could take a train to wherever he wanted and still have a little left over for expenses. "The train," he whispered, as he rushed to the station.

Jack ran to the first ticket window he came across. "I'm lookin' for a kid," he said breathlessly.

"Yeah?" the man answered.

"A kid about my age. He's short and he was wearin' a bowler hat with a feather in the band."

"Sorry, kid. I and seen 'em."

"He woulda been buyin' a ticket for a big city like Chicago or Boston or someplace like that."

"Sorry, kid. I said I ain't seen 'em," the ticket agent said before he slid the door closed on his window.

Jack went from ticket window to ticket window asking if anyone had seen Oscar. Finally, one man called to Jack through the bars of his window. "What's the problem, son? Has this kid done something wrong that you want to find him?"

"No . . . . No, he ain't done anything wrong. He's my friend. He's my best friend. I wanna tell him not to go. I wanna tell him that he needs to stay here with me. I wanna tell him that if he's gotta go then I'll go with him."

"I'm sorry son. I haven't seen your friend, but I just started my shift about thirty minutes ago. Maybe your friend bought his ticket before that. Do you know where he was headed?"

"He woulda gone to a city. Chicago, St. Louis, Boston, or someplace like that."

The ticket agent pointed at the departure and arrival schedule behind Jack. "The last train for St. Louis left at 3:15 this morning," the agent said.

"No. He couldn't have gone on that one. It woulda been within the last hour."

"Well, the last train for Boston left an hour ago, and the one for Chicago left about forty minutes ago. I'm sorry kid. If he was on one of them then your friend is well on his way."

"Jack's stomach sank, and he thought that he might get sick. "Thanks," he said in little more than a whisper. Jack made his way out of the train station asking every shoe-shine boy and newsie that he could find if they'd seen Oscar. When he'd asked everyone that he could, he left the station and headed out for the docks and the coach line.

The ticket agent watched as Jack walked toward the door, and then he noticed a figure step out from behind a large column near the schedule board. Oscar eyes followed Jack until he disappeared through the main entrance. He took a tentative step forward. He wanted to call out Jack's name and run after him, but he didn't. He couldn't.

Oscar looked up and saw that the man at the ticket window was watching him. His first instinct was to run, but instead he took a deep breath and went to the window.

"Let me guess," the man said. "You want to buy a ticket to a big city. Boston or Chicago maybe?"

"Yes sir."

"You know that your friend is pretty upset. He really wants to find you and keep you from leaving."

"I know," Oscar said, looking back to where he'd last seen Jack.

"Do you want to tell me what this is all about, son? You aren't running away from something, are you?"

"No sir. I guess you could say that I'm runnin' to somethin'. I've got nothin' to keep me here, so I figured that it was about time I moved on. I wanna make my mark on this world and I figured why not do it in a new city."

The man looked Oscar over carefully. It was obvious that he was old enough to make the decision to move away and live on his own, but his small frame and the moisture accumulating in his eyes made him look very young and helpless. "I have a son your age," he said as looked into Oscar's eyes. "I know that his mother and I would be heartbroken if he took off and left us on a whim."

"I'm sure you would be."

"Well, what about your family? Have you thought about how they will feel if you go away?"

"I ain't got any family. My ma and my grandpa are both dead."

"What about your father?"

"If he ain't dead or in jail then he should be. He took off a while ago. I saw him stab a kid one day. The kid didn't die or nothin'. But my old man was sure tryin' to kill him."

"And you have no other family here in the city?"

"I don't have any family anywhere. Whatever family I had is long gone by now."

"And what about your friend? He sure wants you to stay."

"Yeah. But he's got his own life and his own family. He doesn't understand that I want that too. I deserve the chance to have that too, don't you think, mister?"

"I suppose you do, son." The man wished that he had some words of encouragement or comfort that he could say to Oscar, but nothing came to mind. "So have you decided where you want to go to start this new life and find your new family?"

"I'm not sure. What's the next train you got leavin' for a big city?"

"Take a look at the board behind you, son. Just pick a city and we'll have you on your way before you know it."

* * *

Jack checked the coach lines but nobody there had seen or noticed Oscar. The agents all said that they hadn't sold a ticket to anyone that young in days.

Trying not to lose hope, Jack headed for the docks.

* * *

Oscar sat on a bench and watched the clock that stood in the middle of the station. There was still almost an hour before his train was scheduled to leave. Time seemed to be moving slowly as he sat with the train ticket to his new life in hand.

The man from the ticket counter kept an eye on Oscar in-between customers. Once the young man boarded the train he would be on his own, but until then, he would remain under the watchful eye of the agent.

Oscar opened his cigar box and sorted through its contents. He took the money that he'd saved and separated it into three piles. He put some in his trouser pocket, some in his shirt pocket, and some in his boot the way Grandpa had taught him. Then Oscar turned his attention back to the cigar box. He smiled a bit as he took a last look at the remnants of his life.

"Hey, son!" the ticket agent called from his window. "Are you watchin' the time?"

Oscar looked up at the clock and realized that he'd been lost in his memories for almost an hour. He took Jack's bandanna from the box and spread it out on the bench. Very carefully, he placed his mother's picture and Grandpa's eyeglasses in the middle and tied them inside of the bandanna. He placed the bundle into his satchel and tossed the box into a nearby trashcan. Oscar took a deep breath and raced to the ticket window. "I wanna thank you mister for . . . . Well, for talking to me and all."

"Good luck, son," the man said, sticking his arm under the window bars to shake Oscar's hand. "And don't forget that New York will always be here if you ever want to come back."

"I know. Bye mister!" Oscar called as he ran to the platform for his train.

* * *

Jack had searched the docks for anyone who might have seen Oscar. He found that two ships had left for Boston that day, but nobody fitting Oscar's description was seen boarding either one. Jack worked his way back through the streets to the coach lines and on to the train station. All along the way he asked newsies and street vendors if they had seen his friend. The answer was always the same. . . . No.

* * *

Jack stood looking at the tall board listing the train arrivals and departures. He scanned each destination wondering if that was where Oscar was headed.

"I figured that you'd be back," a voice came from behind. It was the ticket agent. He'd been sitting on the bench reading a newspaper. "I've been waiting for you since my shift ended. I wanted to tell you that I saw your friend. He's gone."

"Where did he go? How long ago did he leave?"

"He left a couple of hours ago. But I can't tell you where he went."

"Whadda you mean you can't tell me?"

"I can't tell you because I don't know. And I don't know because I didn't want to know. I figured that you would probably be back and that I would be tempted to tell you where he'd gone, so I made him buy his ticket from another window. And don't bother to ask the other ticket agents because they won't tell you. It's against the company rules to give out any information about its passenger's destinations. All I know is that he departed sometime around 4:00. We had a 4:00 to Boston, and a 4:15 to Chicago."

"Damn-it!" Jack shouted. "When do the next trains leave for them places?" he asked, desperately looking at the schedule board.

"What are you going to do, son? You don't know where he's gone. You can't flip a coin and pick a train to go after him."

"What the hell do you know?"

"I know that he wants to start a new life. And I know that he's going to miss you very much."

"How do you know that?"

"Because he told me. He said that he didn't want you to know where he was going because you would try to go with him. He said that you had a family and a life here in New York and that he deserved to have the same thing for himself. He said that he needed to go away to try and find a life and a family of his own."

All of the strength drained from Jack and he began to sway.

"Sit down before you fall down," the man said.

Jack sat on the bench and rubbed his hands roughly over his face trying to rub away the tears that were threatening to fall.

"He left this behind," the man said handing the cigar box to Jack. "I saw him take some things out of the box then he tossed it into the trash. Curiosity got the better of me, and I had to see what was inside. If your name is Cowboy there is something in there that I think you'll want to read."

Jack opened the box and looked over the few remaining items. There among the marbles, Oscar's blue ribbon for arithmetic, and assorted odds and ends was a yellowed piece of paper. Jack had seen it last night when he was picking up Oscar's mementoes from the basement floor. He didn't think anything of it at the time.

"Go ahead and read it," the man encouraged.

Jack unfolded the paper and smiled. It was a composition that Oscar had written in school. There was a big B+ at the top of the paper. Oscar always was good in school, he remembered.

_What I want to be when I grow up_

_By Oscar Benedict Delancey_

_I'm not sure what I want to be when I grow up. A fire man maybe. But I want to be strong and nice like my Grandpa Connelly. And I want to have a house in the Bronx like he does. It will be big and white like his. And it will have a big swing in the back yard too. I want it to be near the woods like Grandpa's house. And I will live there all the time not just once a month like when we go to see him now._

_And my friend Cowboy will come there and live with me all the time. We can go for walks in the woods every day. Sometimes we can even sleep in the backyard and look up at the stars if it is warm enough. Mama and Grandpa can come and visit with us and even stay to live if they want. But Morris and Papa can't ever come. _

_Someday me and Cowboy are going to visit Santa Fe and see the dessert and the mountains cause that's what he wants to do. But after we seen it we will come back to the Bronx because that will be our home. Me and Cowboy and Mama and Grandpa will be a real family and me and Cowboy will live in my house until we are old like they are._

_The end_

"Here," the man said, handing Jack his handkerchief. "If you care about your friend like I think you do then you will let him have the chance to be happy. Now why don't you go home to your family and get some rest. It's been a long day, son."

Jack put the letter back into the box and closed the lid. "I - - um . . . .Yeah. Thanks, mister."

* * *

It was about midnight when Jack arrived at the Jacobs' apartment building. He climbed the ladder of the fire escape and somehow wasn't surprised to find David waiting.

"What are you doing up so late?" Jack asked.

"I was waiting for you. I figured you would be by sooner or later. Do you want to go up on the roof where we can talk?"

Jack just nodded and continued his climb.

Jack sat with his back against the chimney and pulled his knees up to his chest.

"That looks good," David said, sitting down next to him.

"What?"

"The Indian headband. It looks good tied around the crown of your hat like that."

Jack removed the hat and ran his fingers over the old beads. "Look, Dave. I know that I owe you and explanation, but . . . . "

"Does this have anything to do with a Chief?"

"Whadda you know about Chief?" Jack asked angrily.

"Nothing really. It's was the night that the strike ended, and Mama talked you into staying the night here with us. It was so hot that that she let us come up on the roof to sleep. You were snoring to beat the band, and then you started talking in your sleep. You were having a nightmare or something because you kept calling for the Chief. You were yelling 'Come back, Chief! Don't leave me!' I tried to wake you up but you kept on calling for this Chief. Then I shook you really hard and you rolled over and started snoring again."

"Look, Dave. I know that you won't understand, but I'm gonna ask you not to push this Chief thing. I want you to trust me and not ask about this again."

"If that's what you want," David replied in a very dissatisfied tone.

"I'm sorry, Dave but I made a promise years ago not to tell anyone about this." Jack leaned against the chimney and chuckled. "Actually, it wasn't a promise as much as it was a blood oath. I broke that oath once. I ain't gonna do that again. Not for you or anyone."

"Sure, Jack," David said. He realized that this was something very personal and deeply emotional for Jack. "A promise is a promise. I won't ask you about it again."

"You're aces, Dave. Most guys woulda pushed for an explanation."

"Well, I am not most guys," David chuckled.

"No, your not," Jack said leaning over and resting his head on David's shoulder. "Dave, would it be okay if you and me stayed up here tonight? I don't want to go back to the lodging house, and I don't really want to be alone."

"Sure, Jack. Whatever you want."

Jack spent the night curled up in David's arms and actually managed to get some sleep.

David, however, didn't sleep. Each time Jack became restless and called for Chief, David was there to stroke his hair and hold him tight and comfort him.

* * *

Oscar sat in the train looking out the window into the darkness. His chest became tight as fear flooded his mind. He was beginning to think that he had made a mistake. He fumbled through the satchel he held in his lap until he found the bundle he'd tied back at the train station. Oscar felt the warn cloth of the bandanna and his apprehension eased just a bit. He rubbed the ends of the bandanna between his fingers and soon his breathing returned to normal. He took comfort in the bundle and in the feel of the cloth against his skin. Eventually, he fell into a deep and restful sleep. Oscar didn't know what lie ahead, but he knew in his heart that he'd made the right decision.

The End

Thanks for reading. As always, your reviews will be greatly appreciated.

* * *

A/N: Yes. This is the last chapter of this The Cigar Box.

I want to thank everyone who stuck with me and who took the time to read and review this story. And thanks to Lady TNN for being so patient in waiting for the completion of her birthday story.


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